Through a Mummy's Eyes
by KatieScarlet
Summary: The events of TMR from Imhotep and Anck-su-Namun's POV--plus some original scenes
1. Imhotep's Awakening

Through a Mummy

**Through a Mummy's Eyes**

A Mummy fanfic by Katie Sullivan  
Rated PG-13  
You know the drill: Roses are red, these characters aren't mine, please don't sue me, your copyright's fine

This is essentially the story from "The Mummy Returns" told from Imhotep and Anck-su-Namun's POV, with some added scenes in between the ones from the movie. :-)  
I owe a great debt to Max Allan Collins' novelization of TMR. I can't possibly remember ever lil' detail about the movie (I've only seen it twice!) so I referred to Collins' book to spark my memory, but the exposition is all new and the POV is radically different. I also tweaked the dialogue in a few places where I swear I remember it differently than what Collins has. Anyway, just enjoy the story...

Updated 6/11/01: I watched the movie for the third time and scribbled some notes blindly in the dark, so I've corrected some of the dialogue that the novelization had differently than the movie. I also corrected the location of Anck-su-Namun during the tidal wave scene, but don't worry--that other scene I wrote is still there, just moved around a bit. ;-)

~~ Chapter One: Imhotep's Awakening ~~

Imhotep was understandably disoriented. The last thing he remembered, he was back in Hamunaptra and all Hell was breaking loose--quite literately! Then there had been the black ooze, and then Nothing. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he knew it wasn't anywhere near as long as the last time.

Out of the void, the terrible, sacred words reached him...distantly at first, then louder and louder, with greater fervor. Consciousness seeped back. He was again in the world of the living.

His first thought was "Who brought me back?" Then "Why?" and then "What's this gunk I'm trapped in?"

Like a Jurassic mosquito in amber, the former High Priest of Osiris was encased in hardened Hamunaptran goo. Somehow, the strength came to him, and he pushed his way into the air--although as yet he had no need to breathe--and he sprang forth like the world's ugliest chicken hatching from the world's most bizarre egg.

Waves of sensations washed over him in a dizzying blur. Men chanting in the old tongue... The flicker of torchlight... A large, dark room... An odd little man reading from what was unmistakably the Book of the Dead... The familiar language would have been music to his ears--if he had had any.

Then the chanting stopped, and the red-robed figures dropped into obeisant postures. A welcome change from his previous reanimation, he thought, alone in a ruined tomb...

First things first. **When** was it? "What is the year?" he heard himself ask, his voice roaring and rasping in that way that unnerved even him.

The man with the Book spoke up, uneasily using the Old Tongue. "My Lord, it is the Year of the Scorpion."

A little more vague than what he had hoped for, but--wait a minute--the Year of the** Scorpion**? "Truly?"

"Yes!"

How interesting...

But before he could contemplate the implications of this any further, a vivid sensation hit him like a wall. **Her**.

He turned to look down the adjoining corridor. And there she was.

At least, it** looked** like her. But he wasn't going to jump to any conclusions. The last time he returned, he had assumed the first woman he saw was Anck-su-Namun, and see how **that** escapade turned out!

He blinked and studied the woman carefully as she approached with sure, lithe, sensuous strides. Her clothes were unfamiliar, black and dripping with jewelry. But her face, her hair, her aura... There was no mistaking his beloved. It was indeed Anck-su-Namun.

Imhotep was speechless. In some ways, it seemed like only hours ago she was a ragged mummy like himself, struggling for life against a horde of ill-advised soldier mummies. Yet here she was in the flesh, alive and vibrant. Had he possessed tear ducts, he might have wept. As it was, he merely stared.

The man with the Book spoke to the woman in the tongue of that infernal O'Connell man. "Do not be frightened, Meela."

"I am not afraid," she said in the same foreign tongue, never taking her eyes off Imhotep. Then she switched back to the Old Tongue. "I am Anck-su-Namun reincarnated."

He wanted to embrace her, but, despite her denial of fear, he wasn't sure how she'd react to being hugged by a rotting mummy. So he kept on staring. But wait...there was something not quite right. She was Anck-su-Namun in appearance, and that sparkle in her eyes was the same...but her soul was incomplete. She was merely a part of his Anck-su-Namun. "Only in body," he said, managing at last to both speak and smile. "But soon...soon I bring back your soul from the underworld, and our love will be whole once again."

She smiled back, understanding. "I have a gift for you, my love."

"A gift?" he echoed. Gee, and he hadn't brought her anything... And his appearance--he would have liked to look his best for their reunion. He glanced down at his rotting form and grimaced. He'd seen better days. Still, she didn't seem to notice or care.

She stepped aside and presented him with her "gift."

"**Her**!" he bellowed, immediately recognizing the doe-eyed woman tied to a board.

"The O'Connell woman, yes," his beloved said. "I knew it would please you to watch her die."

Imhotep agreed. He couldn't wait to see that meddlesome trollop extinguished once and for all. "Extinguish" turned out to be an ironic choice of words, for his followers were about to dump the helpless Evelyn O'Connell into a flame-filled sarcophagus.

"The underworld awaits you," he said with a sneer--or, at least, the closest thing to a sneer as he could muster, given his lack of a face.

"I'll put you in your grave, you monster--**again**!" Evelyn yelled in ancient Egyptian to ensure Imhotep's comprehension.

The man with the books--the curator, Imhotep was to learn--grinned wickedly. "Our thinking was, not if we put you in **your** grave, first!"

Evelyn was poised to fall into the flames, awaiting only the final word. Imhotep gave the order in the Old Tongue, and the woman who was almost Anck-su-Namun gleefully translated, "Burn her!"

Imhotep would have raised an eyebrow, if he had had one. This bloodthirsty vixen wasn't entirely like the Anck-su-Namun he remembered. **His** Anck-su-Namun enjoyed ritualized fighting and watched sacrifices with aplomb. She had a violent streak, he knew. That animalistic side of her appealed to him. But this woman standing beside him had the icy stare of a murderess. Still, he reminded himself, he had no idea what she had gone through, or what this O'Connell woman had done to her. And the fact remained that she had done plenty to Imhotep personally that gave him ample reasons to enjoy watching her die.

He never got the chance, however--at least, not that day. Because just as she was about to be tipped off the board into the fire, that blasted O'Connell man swung out of nowhere and whisked her to safety.

Imhotep and she-who-was-nearly-Anck-su-Namun uttered the same curse word: he in ancient Egyptian and she in English.

Gunfire exploded behind them.

A Med-Jai warrior was spraying Imhotep's followers with bullets from his position high on a landing. The red-robed figures dived for cover, as did she-who-was-almost-but-not-quite-Anck-su-Namun. Imhotep was briefly alarmed to realize that she was not immortal like he was. Bullets were hitting him, but of course had no effect. The towering black man threw a rifle to her, and she began firing at the attackers along with the men.  
He reverted to his earlier reaction--merely staring. What in the world...? His eyes wandered around the chaotic scene, trying to make sense of it all. Then he spotted the rugged, brown-haired man who had become his greatest enemy since Seti himself--Rick O'Connell. It couldn't be! "**You**!" he roared.

No. No no no. Not again. Not this time. No.

He swung around and grabbed a large black urn. "Arise, my servants!" he yelled, opening the urn to release a swirl of dark sand. "Collect your bones! Gather your limbs!" he intoned, and the sand coalesced into four mummified soldiers, weapons in hand and looking ready for battle. "Shake the earth from your flesh! Your master has returned!"

Imhotep caught a glimpse of almost-Anck-su-Namun cowering behind some rubble, clutching her rifle, her wide eyes regarding the soldiers with terror. In their last adventure, these drones had killed her before she even had the chance to recover her entire life force. Imhotep gave her a reassuring glance. The soldiers were firmly under his control this time.

He commanded them to destroy the fleeing O'Connells and Med-Jai, and with an unearthly howl the warrior mummies took off in pursuit.

Considering that situation to be under control for the moment, he turned back to the shaken woman behind him. "Anck-su-Namun..."

She managed a weak smile as he helped her up, not flinching at the touch of his less-than-skin.

He looked around at the carnage of broken furniture, bullet-pierced walls and dead red-robed men. "Let us find a more...agreeable place to talk," he said. She nodded and led him up to a parapet high on the roof of the building.

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of twentieth-century London. "Where are we?" he gasped.

"London, England."

He looked at her blankly.

"Uh...it's far from our lands, far to the north and west. An island nation."

"Oh."

"But we shall hasten back to Egypt soon, my love," not-quite-Anck-su-Namun assured him. "The curator told you it was the Year of the Scorpion?"

He nodded.

"And you know what that means."

"The time is right to awaken the Scorpion King and Anubis' Army."

"Right."

"And...?"

"I have the Bracelet of Anubis. Well, not in my hands at this exact moment, but your...er, soldiers--" She shuddered. "--are taking care of it."

"I see."

"So I was thinking..." She stepped closer to him, her bearing seductive. "Just maybe..." She placed a well-manicured finger on his non-existent lips and gave a cat-like grin.

"Y-You want** me** to to defeat the Scorpion King?"

"Mmm hmm..."

"And use the Army of Anubis to...?"

"Take over the world, silly."

"Oh."

"Just think of it..." she purred. "You and me, ruling the world together, forever..."

He melted. When she looked at him with that _Look_, he was helpless. Always had been. "You and I...ruling the world..." It had a very nice ring to it. He grinned and ran a hand through her midnight tresses. "I think we can arrange that..."

Her coy smile blossomed into an overjoyed grin.

"I will go to the Ahm Shere and slay the Scorpion King!" he announced to the entire city, peering down from the high balcony as if he was already ruler of all he surveyed.

She-who-was-just-about-Anck-su-Namun breathed in the rain-tinted wind, smelling the delicious scent of imminent victory. "And together we shall rule the world," she said with a look that promised more than world conquest.

He leaned toward her, wishing for more reasons than one that his body were fully regenerated.

"My lord," the curator interrupted, "these people, the O'Connells, the Med-Jai leader...they have the Scepter of Osiris."

Imhotep's ragged form coiled in fury, the finer pleasures in life temporarily forgotten. He carefully reined in his temper. "By the time we reach Ahm Shere, my powers will have regenerated and I will have no need for the scepter. "

He turned back to his beautiful female companion. The Scorpion King could wait. If he didn't kiss this goddess beside him soon, he'd explode. He eased toward her gently, knowing his appearance was anything but romantic. "Trust in your love for me, Anck-su-Namun," he murmured.

The drizzly London cityscape dissolved, and in their minds they were back in the palace at Thebes. Both of them glowed with the radiance of youthful passion, gazing into each other's eyes. Heedless of the royal finery around them, the Pharaoh's favorite mistress and the High Priest of Osiris joined in a tender, heartfelt kiss. She closed her eyes and gave in to the moment, taking his handsome face in her hands.

Then the moment was over, and she opened her eyes. Gone was the sun-tinged glory of ancient Egypt and the bronzed form of her lover. She looked a little queasy when she saw the present form of the mouth she had just kissed, and he frankly couldn't blame her. "Soon, my beloved," he whispered. "Soon my body and your soul will be restored."

She nodded, her sly smile returning.


	2. Trials on the Rails

Through a Mummy

**Through a Mummy's Eyes**

A Mummy fanfic by Katie Sullivan  
Rated PG-13  
You know the drill: Roses are red, these characters aren't mine, please don't sue me, your copyright's fine

~~ Chapter Two: Trials on the Rails ~~

Things were going very well. The O'Connells still had the Scepter of Osiris, but Imhotep had something better: their son. And, along with young Alex O'Connell, the Bracelet of Anubis. He also had a private train--he didn't bother to ask how she-who-was-not-quite-Anck-su-Namun-yet had acquired it. A sizeable contingent of red-robed followers were along for the ride, fanatical and heavily armed. With their support and the Bracelet to guide them, it would only be a matter of time until they reached Ahm Shere. There he would defeat the Scorpion King, conquer the world for Anck-su-Namun and then maybe he could finally get some rest, for Pete's sake!

Imhotep's first plane ride had been an..._interesting_ experience. He much preferred his sand vortex as a mode of transportation, but his powers had yet to regenerate. The sand vortex was roomier, for one thing. It was also private. Being crammed in an airplane seat was less than ideal, even if he did get the window seat. Quasi-Anck-su-Namun sat next to him, of course, deflecting the questions of curious stewardesses. Imhotep was well disguised in a black full-body robe and gloves, but the expressionless metal mask he wore attracted some unwanted attention. Not quite as much attention, though, as the asp that almost-Anck-su-Namun had neglected to check into the cargo hold and which popped out to investigate its surroundings soon after takeoff. She had to do some fast talking to assure the stewardess of the snake's supposedly harmless nature.

Anyway, they were now departing Cairo on their private train. Imhotep was alone in his personal boxcar, conserving his energy until nearly-Anck-su-Namun delivered a certain rather important box.

The woman who called herself Meela was in the next room, discussing their situation with the curator.

The weasel-like little man was explaining, "When Lord Imhotep first encountered the O'Connell infidels, they condemned his immortal soul to the underworld. Because of this, out lord will be vulnerable, even when his powers are fully regenerated." 

She knew this already, of course, and it made her nervous, although she didn't show it. "Only when he stands at the head of the army of Anubis will he again be invincible."

"Yes, my lady." The curator handed her the Book of the Dead. "You must keep this with you always."

"Wow! The Book of the Dead!"

Meela turned in surprise at the outburst. She had nearly forgotten the presence of the O'Connell boy. The monolithic Lock-nah moved to strike the boy for speaking, but she stopped him. "Lock-nah! Gentle, now. Let go of his arm." She contemplated the frightened but defiant child. If not for the kinks of fate, she might have been a mother a long time ago, and some of those instincts flickered through her brain. She smiled and preened an unruly lock of his hair. "What a bright little child," she cooed. "Your mother must be missing you terribly." She lightly poked his nose as if he were an infant. "But if you wish to see her again, you must not only be bright, but very well behaved."

Alex gave her a mocking, disgusted look. "Lady, I don't behave for my parents. What makes you think I'll behave for you?"

Meela gave a twisted grin. "Perhaps because your parents wouldn't slip a poisonous snake in your bed while you're sleeping," she said in a slightly sing-song tone, enjoying the boy's horrified expression. Neither of them really knew if she was kidding.

Lock-nah escorted Alex into Imhotep's boxcar for an audience with the mummy. Meela sat back and closed her eyes, swaying with the jostling of the train as she waited. Sure enough, a moment later the boy screamed. He had seen the face of Imhotep. She smiled a little. The poor kid would probably need a clean pair of trousers after this... Never mind the fact that Imhotep was telling him about the Bracelet's curse. If he didn't reach the golden pyramid at Ahm Shere in the next seven days, the golden jewelry would kill him. So neither she nor Imhotep were surprised when the boy agreed to lead them there.

The next order of business was the three mercenaries and their box. Not just any box. The sacred canopic jar chest. Those who opened it were doomed to be the sacrifices necessary for Imhotep to regenerate. The mercenaries had an inkling of some supernatural danger attached to the chest, but when she offered them double the money they had originally agreed upon they put their superstitions aside. She calmly showed them the way to her lord's boxcar. A makeshift altar was set up, lined with canopic jars and candles, sending puffs of incense smoke into the sunless chamber. As the men struggled to bring in the heavy and unwieldy chest, she smiled in not quite as innocent a manner as she had intended. "In here, gentlemen, you shall recieve your just rewards," she said, her voice like chocolate silk.

The leader of the three sneered at her. "No tricks now--we ain't giving up this chest until we're satisfied."

She turned her impulse to giggle into a seductive grin. "Don't worry. There is much satisfaction to be had..." It was an honest enough statement, but she and Imhotep would be the ones enjoying it, not these scruffy ne'er-do-wells.

She slipped out the door and locked it behind them, then stood in the hallway and waited. Imhotep stepped from the shadows and revealed his hideous form to the men, who began screaming and swearing in terror. She let a suitable interval pass, until the sacrificial idiots began scrambling to get the door open. She smiled a little, confident in the strength of the lock, and opened the tiny door at eye-level to peer through the main door. She exchanged a brief look with Imhotep, then told the frantic men, "He wants you to open the chest for him. Quick, open the chest!" She shut the peephole's door and listened. The men argued for a moment, fearing the curse. They soon decided to trust the curse they didn't now over the mummy they did, and, with a grunt and a scraping noise, the chest was opened. She grinned even more widely. Any moment now... Unearthly sounds emanated from behind the locked door, and she grimaced a little. It wasn't pretty, sucking flesh and life force from other people, but it was necessary. And she'd much rather have that flesh on her beloved Imhotep than on those bumbling, greedy morons.

Before long, his voice reached her through the door, no longer rattling with supernatural frenzy, but the smooth human voice that had whispered sweet nothings to her thousands of years ago. "Anck-su-Namun, it is done. Come in and see."

She quickly unlocked the door and found a fully regenerated Imhotep smiling at her. Gingerly stepping around the shriveled remains of the three mercenaries, she tip-toed her way into his arms.

So many of her own memories were still nebulous and spotty, but this--the warm feeling of security, locked in his strong arms--this she remembered most of all.

Still breathing hard from the exertion of regeneration, he held her close, content for the moment merely to embrace her as a man and not a mummy.

There was no telling how long they rested in each other's hypnotic embrace, just standing and reveling in each other's presence. Some time later there was a violent jolt as the train's emergency brake kicked in. Imhotep stumbled a little, and she steadied him. "What in the name of Osiris...?" he muttered. Then, answering his own question, "The boy."

Then came the all-too-familiar sound of gunfire. He cursed again, taking the names of several gods and goddesses in vain, and threw open the door of the boxcar to see what all the commotion was.

The O'Connell boy had escaped somehow and was running across the desert toward the magnificent remains of the Karnac temple complex.

For a split second, the lovers just stared at the ruins of the great temple complex. "Karnac," Imhotep said, waving broadly to take in the oddly familiar scenery.

Of more immediate importance as far as he was concerned was the O'Connell boy. Those idiot minions of his were shooting at him! He had ordered them not to kill the boy under any circumstances, and the moment his back is turned, what do they do? Fire machine guns at him! Imhotep was about to yell at them to stop, but paused. It was time to flex his metaphysical muscles, not his vocal cords. Now that his body was regenerated, his powers were slowly returning; he could feel them. He raised his gloved hands as if leading an unseen congregation of Osiris worshippers, and furrowed his brow in concentration. She-who-would-soon-be-Anck-su-Namun-again stood to one side in awe and admiration. The men on the roof of the train car began levitating. In their surprise, they dropped their guns and yelped for mercy. Imhotep tensed his entire body with the strain. His powers were returning, yes, but weren't one hundred percent yet. Using the last of his supernatural oomph he sent the hapless gunmen hurling through the air. They thumped violently into two great stone pillars some distance away and sank to the ground in lifeless heaps.

Imhotep paused to regain his breath, sweat misting his brow. Not-quite-Anck-su-Namun put a hand on his arm to steady him. He leaned on her, suddenly pale with exhaustion. His inner reserves of strength and her soothing words and caress soon helped him to recover. He set off across the hot sands alone in the direction the boy had fled. Karnac had once been the religious heart of Egypt, the jewel of the Upper Kingdom. Imhotep had spent many days here during religious festivals, often serving Seti's whims. It was disheartening to see the great temple complex fallen into ruin like this. The vivid paint had long since worn off the stone carvings, the statues were crumbled, awnings were gone, and there was no sign of life anywhere. Except...

He spotted the O'Connell boy scrambling through the ruins a short distance away. Imhotep strode confidently forward, heedless of the fact that he was miraculously walking over a pool of water, and easily caught up with the panicked child. Using the very last of his energy, he raised a hand and caused Alex to levitate until he was at eye level. Trying not to tremble with the strain, he managed to look calm, even paternal. He wagged a scolding finger at Alex, who floated slightly from side to side in response to the motion of his hand. "Naughty, naughty," he chided, then let him tumble harmlessly into the sand. Shaken and defeated, the child brushed himself off and reluctantly took Imhotep's hand.

The regenerated mummy escorted his young prisoner back to the train, where he passed into the custody of a less-than-thrilled Lock-nah. Imhotep would normally have punished the hulking warrior for allowing the boy to escape, but at the moment he was more concerned with finding a place to lie down. The telekinetic outbursts had depleted his energy reserves, and if he didn't rest soon he'd probably faint. Sort-of-Anck-su-Namun took his arm and led him back into his boxcar, where he reclined on a musty divan in the shadows. Soon he either fell asleep or passed out, he wasn't sure which, in his beloved's soft arms. 


	3. Restoration

Through a Mummy

**Through a Mummy's Eyes**

A Mummy fanfic by Katie Sullivan  
Rated PG-13  
You know the drill: Roses are red, these characters aren't mine, please don't sue me, your copyright's fine

~~ Chapter Three: Restoration ~~

An extended nap did wonders, and by the time Imhotep awoke he felt much more like his old self. (His very, **very** old self, considering how many thousands of years ago he had been born!) It had been foolish, perhaps, to tax his powers so soon. Still, it had been reassuring to know they were still functioning this time around.

He gently awoke she-who-was-still-not-exactly-Anck-su-Namun with a kiss. She smiled serenely and wound her arms around his shoulders to return the kiss.

"Come, my beloved," he said softly. "Bring the Book of the Dead, and I will restore your soul."

She nodded, looking both anxious and happy at the prospect.

Soon they both knelt on cushions at the edge of a holy pool. Karnac's physical state was decayed, but, like Imhotep, its spiritual power was still great. Tendrils of fog danced over the sacred waters as if sensing the monumental event about to take place.

Imhotep opened the great black book in front of him and turned to look at she-who-would-finally-be-Anck-su-Namun-again-very-soon. She was frightened; he could see it deep in her enchanting eyes. "It is time to remind you of who you were...are are," he said solemnly, his heart racing. He put out his hand, palm down, and moved it in slow circles over the water. "It is time for you to remember who we were, together...who we **are**, together... For our love is an eternal love, our souls mated together as one forever..."

He send out a command with his mind, and the misty waters glimmered and stilled, displaying an image of ancient Thebes: the time and place he would always think of as "home."

He suddenly had the eerie feeling of being watched, but he and very-soon-to-be-Anck-su-Namun were alone. He pressed on, calling forth the visions of that fateful day thousands of years ago, when her first life had suddenly and tragically ended. Together, the two--and whomever it was who was psychically eavesdropping--watched and remembered.

The throne room...Seti...Imhotep...Nefertiri...Anck-su-Namun... The duel...gold tridents flashing... Elegant bodies whirling and clashing... Back and forth... Nefertiri sprawled on the floor, panting as Anck-su-Namun teased her throat with the point of a spear. The Pharaoh's congratulations... His daughter Nefertiri would guard the Bracelet of Anubis. Anck-su-Namun would become the latest in the monarch's long line of wives. Bitterness...heartbreak...longing... Later that night, their secret meeting... Golden-painted priests stood guard as they melted into each other in a kiss... If only the moment could last forever... A crash. Shouting. The Pharaoh. Discovered! Panic. A sword. A dagger. Blood. Screaming. Footsteps? The Med-Jai! "Go, save yourself!" The infuriated guards... No time... Defiance. Gather courage... The pain! Blackness.

Imhotep set his jaw and pressed on. The unseen eavesdropper had disappeared. He was once again alone with his love. But no...he glanced at her blank expression and limp posture. She was in limbo, still reliving her previous death, trapped between phases of existence. This was the critical point. He frowned in concentration and resumed reading from the Book.

The surface of the pool shimmered and writhed, slowly ejecting a nebulous black..._something_. The rippling sheet of darkness was drawn to the unconscious woman. Gradually, liquidly, it merged with her, finally disappearing from sight. She gasped for air, as if emerging from a long swim underwater. Briefly dazed, she shook her head and looked around with new eyes. Her confused gaze came to rest on her smooth-headed companion, and peace returned to her lovely face.

"Anck-su-Namun," he breathed, dizzy with elation. Finally! It was her! Truly her! At long last!

"Imhotep," she whispered, staring at him as if she would never look away again.

There was recognition in her tone and on her face that hadn't been there before. Before she had been only partly Anck-su-Namun; her soul was incomplete, her memories patchy.

Now they were both complete again, in body and soul.

Impulsively, they threw their arms around each other and kissed: their first true kiss in several thousand years. Time lost its meaning. Their quest for power and vengeance seemed distant and insignificant. There was only her in his world, and he in hers.

Guided by his caressing hands, she eased back onto the cushions and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. She eagerly sought each kiss with the fervor of a starving beggar at a buffet table. He was glad to comply, but then ran into a small problem.

Many modern men consider the removal of a brassiere to be an art form; an acquired skill. For a man from a time period when such undergarments were unheard of and indeed many women didn't bother to cover that area of their anatomy much at all...well, it was simply hopeless. With her assistance, however, their long overdue reunion proceeded without further difficulty...


	4. Oasis Fracas

Through a Mummy

**Through a Mummy's Eyes**

A Mummy fanfic by Katie Sullivan  
Rated PG-13  
You know the drill: Roses are red, these characters aren't mine, please don't sue me, your copyright's fine

~~ Chapter Four: Oasis Fracas ~~

They were nearing Ahm Shere. Both Alex's directions and Imhotep's instincts said so. They camped briefly in a deep gorge along a tranquil stretch of the Nile. The travelers were more than ready for a rest after hastening across the desert. Anck-su-Namun was exhausted--for various reasons--and had spent most of the morning snoozing in a tent upwind of the camels.

Imhotep let her sleep as long as he could, but it was time to get moving soon. Time was, after all, a rather important factor at the moment. He poked his head into the tent where his beloved dozed. She was gorgeous and peaceful, sleeping amid a nest of cushions and pillows. For a few luxurious moments he just stood there, watching her delicate chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Finally, he forced himself to awaken her with a soft kiss.

She mumbled something in greeting and tried to pull him down beside her, but he resisted. "We are nearly there, Anck-su-Namun. We are very close to Ahm Shere."

The haze of sleep disappeared from her eyes, and a more alert grin took shape on her lips. "Truly?"

"Yes, my love."

She stood up with a devious expression. "Then what are we waiting for?"

While his soul mate readied herself for the next leg of their journey, Imhotep serenely waded out into the Nile in the rocky gorge, concentrating his mental powers. He sent out a psychic search beam like a lighthouse, sweeping the area in search of the hostile group following them. He sensed them somewhere nearby. If he could just pinpoint their exact location...

He half-closed his eyes, attuning his senses to the subtle forces around and within him. Water could be a very powerful force when used correctly. His breathing slowed as he sent out probing thoughts, using the innate power in the river to amplify and guide his search. The life-giving Nile lapped at his knees. Aha! A thin smile crept onto his face. They were in the air. That's why they had been so difficult to find. Now that he had found them, though, it was all clear in his mind.

Behind him on the riverbank Lock-nah and Alex were bickering over something again. Imhotep pulled himself out of his semi-trance and looked over his bare shoulder to learn what the matter was. It seemed the boy had been leaving markers to help his parents follow him. Lock-nah picked him up, ready to do a number of unkind things.

"Put the boy down," Imhotep called out in ancient Egyptian. Then, knowing Alex could undersand him, he said, "I hope your parents enjoyed their journey, for it is about to come to an end."

The boy quivered with anger and fear, but between Imhotep's powers and Lock-nah's muscles he was utterly helpless.

Imhotep inhaled slowly. His powers were back to their full strength now. Yesterday he would never have dared attempt such a feat, but today he felt up to the challenge. He raised his arms, and the Nile obediently surged upward in a solid wall before him, towering nearly to the rim of the canyon. It hovered tremulously for a moment, as if someone had hit a metaphysical "pause" button. Imhotep's muscles coiled as he centered himself, reaching out with his mind to pinpoint the enemies' dirigible. He drew a deep breath and punched forward with the palms of both hands, hissing with malice. The wall of water rushed forward, leaving the riverbed exposed, covered only with mud and a few surprised and annoyed fish.

He was in two places at once. He saw the drying riverbed in front of his physical body, felt the mud around his ankles and heard Alex's panicked voice calling out behind him--and yet he simultaneously saw from the vantage point of a ghostly face within the tsunami, felt the abrasive rush of the canyon walls on either side, and heard the rush of water and energy. There it was, drifting in the air in front of him like an odd round bird. He sensed them there...O'Connell and his wife, the Med-Jai leader, an unknown, and one other...the one who had stolen command of his solders at Hamunaptra and ordered them to destroy Anck-su-Namun! He ground his teeth in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. Any distraction could make him lose control of the tidal wave. At least Anck-su-Namun knew enough not to kiss him in the middle of such a trance, unlike that O'Connell woman. That was such a dirty trick, playing on his loneliness for Anck-su-Namun like that just to save her friends! 

Now he'd gone and done it. Allowed himself to get distracted. The dirigible managed to duck away around a curve in the canyon, causing his tidal wave to crash awkwardly into an adjoining gorge. He grimaced and braced his feet in the slippery mud, gathering his resources for a second attack. He quickly managed to re-form the tidal wave and was soon in pursuit again. This time he allowed no stray thoughts or emotions to interfere, and the dirigible was soon blasted out of the sky and out of the canyon...straight into a rainforest.

A rainforest? Oho! Ahm Shere! A fortuitous discovery!

Imhotep finally let his hands drop to his sides. This time he was barely winded by the great psychic exertion. This was more like it! He allowed himself a wicked smile before walking out of the riverbed.

The O'Connell boy looked stricken. He knew by Imhotep's satisfied expression that his parents were no longer coming to rescue him.

Imhotep almost felt sorry for the child. It wasn't his fault he was embroiled in this big mess. As the mummy passed by, he ruffled the boy's golden hair in a playful manner, but the gesture only brought a scowl.

He headed back toward where the others were camped. He gestured to the curator to prepare the caravan to begin moving again.

Imhotep's followers bore guns and torches as they marched warily though the creepy oasis of Ahm Shere. There was no obvious sign of danger, but the place had an uneasy aura about it that caused the hair on the back of their necks stand up.

Imhotep--who had very little body hair of any kind--was confident and unafraid. Creatures of darkness had enough mutual respect not to attack each other. Even if some evil critter lacked this basic courtesy, his fully regenerated powers would protect him and his beloved. Sensing this, Anck-su-Namun stayed close by his side, clinging to his arm through his black cloak. She soon regained some of her usual swagger, emboldened by his presence.

Then they came upon the first of the corpses. Most had been there a long time, by the conditions of the bodies. Imhotep held up a hand to halt the procession, frowning at the gruesome tableau. Human remains were displayed in every barbaric way imaginable: hanging in nets, impaled on spikes, left dangling over long-cold fire pits... The men were horrified, the boy was terrified, a wide-eyed Anck-su-Namun pressed in close to Imhotep's side...but the mummy himself was nonplussed. He had seen much worse.

They pressed on, further into the jungle. There was a glint through the trees, high on the horizon. Anck-su-Namun followed her lover's gaze and saw it. Both knew what it was: the diamond beacon atop the golden pyramid. The resting place--at least for now--of the legendary Scorpion King.

The others noticed it now, too, and an awed, nervous murmur ran through the line of red-robed men.

"My lord," the curator said in the Old Tongue, finally forcing Imhotep to tear his gaze from the distant pyramid, "now there is no further need for the O'Connell boy."

He turned and found himself looking straight into the terrified eyes of the tow-headed child. "Yes, but we need the bracelet. The bracelet is the key."

He didn't particularly want to give the order to have a child killed. Let the others interpret his words as they wished. Imhotep watched out of the corner of his eye as Lock-nah did just that.

The dark warrior strode purposefully toward the boy, relishing the long-awaited moment. Before he could make use of his shining scimitar, however, a sudden gust of wind hushed everyone in the caravan. It was not a particularly strong wind; they had encountered stronger gales already in the desert. But this wind was chilly, eerie, and carried with it an almost palpable sense of dread. This was no ordinary wind.

Anck-su-Namun clung to his arm so tightly that it was nearly painful. Imhotep peered into the shadowy jungle, wary but not particularly concerned.

The curator spoke the thought that was on all their minds: "Something...something is coming."

This, of course, did nothing to calm the epidemic of jitters sweeping through their ranks. The wind increased. So did the overwhelming feeling of danger.

Imhotep hadn't thought it possible, but Anck-su-Namun grasped his arm more tightly. He put his hand atop hers, gently urging her to lessen her viselike grip, and put his other arm snugly around her. "Do not fear," he said calmly. "They cannot harm me." She gave him a questioning look. They?

There was a scream from somewhere behind them. They watched in curious horror as random men began disappearing into the thick grass as if something small but vicious were dragging them down. Then another sound burst out, one that was quickly becoming Imhotep's least favorite noise in the world: gunfire. But from whom? Somehow he knew it was O'Connell, or the Med-Jai, or some combination thereof. Apparently his tidal wave hadn't been as effective as he thought.

Things started happening very quickly at that point. One group of assailants were absurd-looking pygmy mummies, bloodthirsty little imps who were apparently the cause of the display of corpses they had passed earlier. As if this wasn't enough trouble, O'Connell and the Med-Jai warrior were suddenly among them, blasting bullets in all directions. A pair of snipers in the cliffs added to the fray. Imhotep's followers were dropping like the proverbial flies. Lock-nah was killed, the curator disappeared, O'Connell escaped with his son slung over his shoulder, and Anck-su-Namun was going to leave a massive bruise if she didn't let up the pressure on his arm!

Before he could make her ease her grip, a group of the pygmy mummies charged toward him. Unfazed, he raised a hand and glowered at the tiny undead. Instantly recognizing him and the power he wielded, they stopped in their tracks and bowed meekly before rushing off to kill somebody else.

Anck-su-Namun breathed a sigh of relief and finally relaxed her hold on his arm.

At his urging, she grabbed the precious Book of the Dead from a fallen red-robed figure. Then, unnoticed by nearly all of the others, he whisked her off into the trees, away from the fray. The sounds of death and angst behind them slowly faded away, and once more they were alone. Panting and shaking, Anck-su-Namun used him for support as she caught her breath.

"What were those things?" she asked.

"Pygmy mummies."

She rolled her eyes. "I can **see** that much," she snapped. "But why are they attacking us?"

"They're the guardians of this oasis."

She shuddered and clasped the Book of the Dead to her chest.

He embraced her for a moment until she seemed calmer, then gestured toward the golden pyramid glinting in the pre-dawn light. "We have an appointment to keep," he said.

She nodded, recovering her nerve.

"That is...unless you've given up this 'take over the world' idea..."

"I most certainly have not!"

"All right. Then let's go. The Scorpion King is waiting."


	5. Hanging by a Heartstring

Through a Mummy

**_Through a Mummy's Eyes_**

A Mummy fanfic by Katie Sullivan  
Rated PG-13  
You know the drill: Roses are red, these characters aren't mine, please don't sue me, your copyright's fine

**_Chapter Five: Hanging by a Heartstring_**

Imhotep and Anck-su-Namun reached the golden pyramid shortly after the first direct beams of morning sun did. If the O'Connell boy hadn't reached this place already, he was dead. As they emerged into the clearing, they spotted their enemies milling about outside the main entrance to the pyramid.

Imhotep watched uneasily as that icy, murderous expression took form on his true love's face. He had hoped it had disappeared along with the persona of Meela, but there it was again. "Anck-su-Namun?" he prodded gently.

"Do you not recognize that woman, Imhotep?"

He squinted at the distant figures through the trees. "Ev-eh-lyn O'Connell."

"Yes. But she is also Nefertiri reincarnated."

"Princess Nefertiri, the Pharaoh's daughter?"

"You know another Nefertiri?"

He shook his head. "No wonder she looked so familiar the first time I saw her, in Hamunaptra. I even thought she was you for a few moments."

"You **what**?" Anck-su-Namun said indignantly.

"I was very disoriented, my dear. I'd only had eyes for a few moments, and they weren't even mine."

"I see," she said with a jealous pout. "I assume you soon saw the error of your ways."

"Oh yes...eventually."

"What do you mean eventually?" she asked with a suspicious glare.

"Well, I did sort of kiss her once...and she might have kissed me once, but she was just trying to distract me so I wouldn't kill her friends."

"You **what**?" she hissed. She would have shrieked it, but she didn't want to alert their enemies to their presence.

"It didn't mean anything, honestly! I thought she was you, and then when I realized she wasn't, I immediately tried to use her to bring you back. That's the truth, my darling. I swear."

She lowered a skeptical eyebrow and gave him a withering look. "I see."

"Don't be angry," he said sheepishly. "I apologized, didn't I?"

"Did you? I was too busy trying to imagine you kissing that...that _hussy_ to notice!"

"I swear I thought she was you at first!"

"At first."

"Yes. Then I was going to sacrifice her to resurrect you. I promise."

"Hmm." She looked only partially convinced.

"You know I love only you, my Anck-su-Namun," he said in his most charming voice, sliding up to her with a seductive smile.

"Well..."

"I've always loved you, and I always will. You and only you, Anck-su-Namun."

"Mmm." Her frown faded into a tolerant smile. "So...you don't mind if I kill her, then?"

"Of course not," he replied without hesitation. "Please do. After all, it was that meddling nymph who warned the Med-Jai of our deed, that last night in Thebes. If not for her, we could have both escaped unharmed. No, she must die. But be wary; she is strong."

"Not as strong as I. She never was," she said with a cocky smirk. Overcome with affection for her spirited ways, Imhotep drew her into a kiss. She indulged him for a few seconds, then broke away. "You take care of the other one," she said, indicating Johnathan.

Anck-su-Namun had waited for this moment for all her life--both of them. Countless times she had restrained herself during ritualized combat with the elegant princess. One little "oops" with her blade and she could easily have slain the overconfident Nefertiri, but she never dared. Seti's wrath was to be avoided at all costs, as she had learned the hard way several times. Imhotep himself had bathed her bruises and ministered to her wounds after she was the target of the Pharaoh's anger. So she had to go on acting as if she liked Nefertiri. As if she looked forward to being stepmother to a vain princess her own age. As if the fervor she displayed in their dueling matches was merely athletic and not emotional. As if she cared one iota about Seti and his brat. As if she was happy having the life slowly crushed out of her by Seti's dominating persona.

Two lifetimes of hatred boiled in her breast as Anck-su-Namun lunged at the unsuspecting Evelyn O'Connell with a long dagger. It was frighteningly easy. The blade sliced straight through the stunned woman's torso and out again, and she dropped like a stone, bleeding on the powdery sand. Her brother was tossed aside by Imhotep, and they strode into the pyramid unopposed. Anck-su-Namun caught a glimpse of O'Connell running to the scene, but he was too late.

A tingle of adrenaline surged through Anck-su-Namun's body. She was elated, triumphant. In one fell swoop, Nefertiri and Evelyn O'Connell were eliminated, and now she was walking to face the Scorpion King with the Book of the Dead in her arms and her beloved at her side. She was on the top of the world!

They instinctively knew the way though the labyrinth of corridors within the pyramid. Neither spoke, subdued by the thought of facing the Scorpion King. Anck-su-Namun wondered if Imhotep really wanted to do this, and he wondered if she really wanted him to, but neither had the courage to speak their doubts.

Still lost in thought, he stepped off a small flight of stairs and onto the crest of Anubis embossed on the floor of the temple. As his feet came in contact with the god's symbol and his body passed between two statues, a sudden flash paralyzed him. His body arched and quivered helplessly as a surge of power coursed through him, more potent than electricity. Anck-su-Namun fell backward into a statue, still clutching the Book of the Dead like a shield.

The beam disappeared as suddenly as it had materialized, dropping Imhotep to the floor like a discarded toy. Anck-su-Namun rushed to help him up, stammering in concern and asking if he was all right.

The unexpected ordeal left him drawn, pale, and shaking. Wait a minute... His powers...?

He raised his hands in front of him and concentrated intensely, attempting to lift the altar at the other end of the room with his mind. It didn't budge. He tried the golden artifacts atop it instead, but they barely quivered.

Anck-su-Namun stared at him, her eyes huge with concern. "What has happened, my love?"

He gave a shallow, nervous laugh. "The great god Anubis has taken my powers. It seems he wants me to face the Scorpion King as a moral." He studied his hands as if expecting to see some trace of his powers there. His gaze then shifted to the stone archway leading into the chamber of the Scorpion King. Eerily, the torches and bonfires within the long-abandoned room were already ablaze, as if expecting him.

"I must have the Scorpion King alone." He began walking toward the door, but she clutched his arm, dragging him back. 

"No! You must not! Without your powers, he'll kill you!"

"No. It is our destiny." Imhotep gave her a sympathetic look and handed over the Book of the Dead, as much as to say, "If I die, you can resurrect me with this."

She threw her arms around him, near tears. "No! I don't want to lose you again," she said fervently, holding him tightly to keep him there.

There was nothing for him to say. It was too late to back down now. He merely kissed her--deeply, passionately--and then resumed his march into the hall of the Scorpion King.

"No!" Anck-su-Namun wailed, watching him go. She wanted to run after him, to tug him backward and tell him to forget the whole thing. Forget Anubis. Forget the Scorpion King. Forget ruling the world. Just stay with her, safe and alive. But she couldn't articulate any of that, and her feet refused to move, unwilling to carry her into the extreme danger beyond that threshold. She bit her lip and prayed to any gods that might be listening to please protect her beloved. There was only so much she could take in one--or two--lifetimes.

She didn't know what to do, so she paced.

She hated feeling helpless. She hated wearing shoes. Come to think of it, she hated scorpions, too. Snakes she liked. Scorpions she didn't. And she wasn't overly fond of creepy old temples, either.

Someone cleared his throat. She whirled around to find Evelyn's brother, Johnathan, glaring at her with fists poised as if to start a boxing match. She nearly laughed.

"Ahem! S'time someone taught you a lesson, wench!" the Englishman taunted, feigning a punch.

This time she did laugh, a short, humorless sound, and approached him. If he wanted a fight, very well. It would take her mind off worrying about Imhotep for a few moments, and she needed the practice anyway.

"This is for my sister!" he said, landing the first punch.

She got in a few blows, he managed to do the same, and she landed a solid kick that sent him staggering back into a statue. He awkwardly grabbed a spear, and she procured a pair of tridents from a nearby statue. It had been a very long time, but the weapons felt reassuringly familiar in her hands. As she moved to attack, her opponent called out, "Hurry up, Alex!"

Who was he talking to? Suddenly she realized she had left the Book of the Dead unattended. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She spun around and saw that O'Connell brat reading from the sacred book. The pale corpse of Evelyn/Nefertiri lay in front of him.

She growled in rage and prepared to attack the boy, but Johnathan distracted her with an inexperienced spear thrust. Clumsy though he was, he had to be dealt with before she could stop Alex. Impatient and growing more and more irritated, Anck-su-Namun attacked Johnathan with renewed vigor. Somehow he fended her off for several long seconds, but the child's voice continued reading the incantation. Anck-su-Namun swore inwardly and lunged harder, this time managing to disarm her foe. She did a fairly efficient job of strangling him, nearly preventing him from answering Alex's question. It seemed the little troublemaker couldn't remember how to pronounce the last symbol. Anck-su-Namun knew, of course, but certainly wasn't about to tell him. But Johnathan managed to croak out the right word, and the spell was complete.

Suddenly, a hand locked around Anck-su-Namun's forcing her to break off her attack on Johnathan. "Pick on somebody your own size," a distressingly familiar voice taunted. It was Evelyn/Nefertiri, brought back from the dead by her meddling son's incantations. Anck-su-Namun backed away from Johnathan, sizing up her new opponent. The two males slipped away to safety while the two women faced off, tridents at the ready.

"Nefertiri," Anck-su-Namun said contemptuously.

"Anck-su-Namun," her opponent confirmed with a nod.

"Good." Anck-su-Namun launched herself back into action. She had already killed his woman once today. Once more shouldn't be difficult...

But Nefertiri was no more out of practice than she was. The fighting was intense, a whirl of limbs and weapons, no quarter asked or given. 

"You have remembered the old ways," Anck-su-Namun said with an approving nod.

Nefertiri sent her enemy reeling backward with a head-butt. "That's a little something new."

Anck-su-Namun's cheek was bleeding, both her pride and body wounded.

Just as she was preparing to resume the combat, an inhuman roar shook the room. Both women froze, wide-eyed, at the sound. They silently agreed on a truce, staring through the corridor into the hall of the Scorpion King. They both sensed the same thing: _The man I love is in danger_.

Discarding their weapons in their haste, the warriors raced to see what, if anything, they could do.

Imhotep was uneasy. Without his powers, he felt naked and distressingly vulnerable. Anck-su-Namun was upset; he could sense it, although he wasn't sure why. And this haunted chamber, criss-crossed with a chasm that led directly into the underworld, was enough to give even the undead the creeps.

Still, he persevered. An immense golden gong stood near the front of the room as if waiting for him. He took up the heavy mallet and swung with all his now-mortal might, causing a reverberating _bong_ to ring through the still air. The entire cavern seemed to shiver.

There was someone approaching quickly from behind, and it wasn't the Scorpion King. Imhotep spun on his heel with the gong's hammer out in front of him, just in time to block the blow descending on his back. He strained to held the hammer steady as his attacker tried to break it with his axe. Imhotep found himself looking straight into the face of a seriously pissed off Rick O'Connell.

Don't you ever give up? he thought to himself in disgust, saving all his breath for the battle ahead. He twisted with all his strength, and both their weapons flew from their hands and went skittering into the bottomless abyss. O'Connell and Imhotep backed off a few steps, circling like predators as they sized each other up.

O'Connell delivered a punch to his adversary's jaw, and Imhotep staggered back. He touched his now-bleeding lip, stunned by his own mortality. "So...you wish to kill me. Then you would kill him and send his Army back to the underworld. This I cannot allow."

Mortal or not, he had to fight. With a sneer of hatred, Imhotep launched himself at O'Connell.

At first they fought with their bare hands, but Imhotep quickly tired of this novelty. A real warrior would use an elegant weapon...like those in the claws of the guardian statues. He grabbed a pair of golden weapons, and O'Connell did the same. Their battle increased to fever pitch, a true duel to the death. Relentless, they warred back and forth across the temple chamber, only pausing to recover from the increasingly frequent earth tremors. Imhotep was shocked to find that the side of his mouth was bleeding. He was indeed mortal now, but he didn't have to like it for a single second.

Just as they seemed to have fought to a draw, their weapons locked together in a quivering but solid hold, it happened. The massive doors on the wall above the altar blasted open, and a huge, dark _something _slid down from the shadows.

Both combatants stood mute and still, staring up in horror at the creature. Their personal vendettas forgotten, the broke off the duel, dropped their weapons and craned their necks back to get a clear idea of the sheer scale of the monster emerging from the wall. It wasn't encouraging.

So this was the Scorpion King. Human head and torso, giant pinchers instead of hands, and from the waist down built like a scorpion. Not just any scorpion. A scorpion that spent far too much time bathing in radioactive waste. Apparently Anubis had a very sick sense of humor.

Imhotep knew that discretion was the better part of valor; those who fought and run away lived to fight a better day, and all the clichés that existed in some form even in his day. So he followed their advice and attempted to flee. The monster scorpion trapped him against a pillar, however. His mind raced for a solution as the giant poised to deliver what would inevitably be a fatal blow.

He dropped to his knees and bowed low, quickly saying, "I am your servant!" in the oldest dialect he knew. The creature understood.

"We shall see..." it said suspiciously.

"I am your servant," Imhotep said again, "but _he_ was sent here to kill you!" He pointed at O'Connell. It was such an old trick that even the Scorpion King had probably heard of it, but several millennia locked in a dark room wasn't the best thing for keeping the senses sharp, so the beast fell for it. He turned his attack on the American instead.

O'Connell fled from the fury of the monster, nearly running head-on into the curator, who was very much the worse for wear after an encounter with one of the temple's many supernatural booby traps. The terrified man tried to appeal to Imhotep for help as the Scorpion King grabbed him, shouting, "Help me, my lord! Help me!"

Imhotep remained blasé. "Why?" The simpering brown-noser was no further use to him, after all.

While the behemoth was busy ripping the curator into itty bitty pieces, O'Connell dashed into another room. Imhotep followed at a safe distance, eager to see which one of them won the battle and hoping it would be O'Connell--merely because the mummy himself would have to defeat the victor. He watched from the shadows as his mortal enemy read the inscriptions on the wall and suddenly realized the true significance of the scepter he and his companions had been dragging around. Only the Scepter of Osiris, once telescoped into a holy spear, could kill the Scorpion King.

Whether the monster knew this and/or noticed the Scepter in the hands of the frightened Johnathan in the corner was a moot point. He was intent on killing O'Connell--which was fine with Imhotep, too, really--and couldn't seem to concentrate on more than one thing at a time.

Evelyn and Anck-su-Namun came racing out of another corridor together and stopped in their tracks as if they had glue on their shoes at the sight of the hideous Scorpion King. Imhotep tried to motion to his beloved to stay back, of out danger, but she was too busy gaping at the creature to pay attention.

O'Connell's brother-in-law finally figured out how to open the Scepter into a spear.

"The Spear of Osiris!" Imhotep gasped. Anck-su-Namun was trying to stop a frantic Evelyn from warning her brother.

Johnathan tossed the spear with surprising agility toward Rick, who was very close to being crushed by the creature's giant pinchers. Desperate, Imhotep launched himself into the air with grace an Olympic track and field star would have envied, and caught the spear in mid-air. The others gasped. The Scorpion King just looked confused. Imhotep grinned. "The Army of Anubis will be _mine_!" he crowed. He drew back his arm and hurled the spear again in the direction of the monster--only to watch in horror as Rick O'Connell gave him a taste of his own medicine. With insanely fast reflexes, the American adventurer grabbed the spear out of the air.

"No!" Imhotep yelled, unable to believe what he was seeing.

O'Connell evaded the Scorpion King for another few seconds, trying to get a better angle to use the spear. Finally, he was trapped up against the bottomless chasm and had no choice but to thrust the golden weapon clear through the Scorpion's stomach.

""No!" Imhotep wailed, rushing uselessly to the monster's side.

"Go to hell, and take your friends with you!" O'Connell said with a grimace, staring without fear into the stunned face of the creature.

The evil being slumped in death and dissolved, leaving O'Connell sprawled on his back at the edge of the chasm. Imhotep was about to attack him again, but the entire hall convulsed in a sudden earthquake, knocking both men over the edge.

The women screamed in horror as their men disappeared into oblivion--but no, they were both still hanging on. Two pairs of hands clutched the edge of the abyss. Both Imhotep and O'Connell were at the limits of their endurance. This day had already been taxing beyond belief, and neither adversary had the strength to hang on for very long.

O'Connell called to his wife, telling her to stay where she was. Stalactites and chunks of rubble were hailing down from above, shattering on the stone floor in a deadly rain. Anyone venturing into that storm would almost surely die.

Imhotep panicked. After all he had been through, after dying the most horrible death imaginable, returning only to die a second time, he couldn't stand to go through it all again. Not again. Not this time. He wanted to live, dammit! Was that so much to ask?

"Anck-su-Namun!" he cried out. "Help me!"

He could barely see her over the lip of the gorge, staring at him without really seeing him. She was in shock, panicked more than he was, unable even to speak or move.

Despite his protests, O'Connell's wife ran into the danger zone and somehow reached him safely. She reached down and yanked him free. So he was saved.

"Anck-su-Namun!" Imhotep called again, his voice shrill with desperation. "Help me!"

She wanted to. She ordered her body to move. She couldn't let that trollop show her up like that. If Nefertiri/Evelyn could brave the danger to save her man, why couldn't she?

Good question...why couldn't she?

Her limbs refused to move. She stared, dumbfounded, across the crumbling chamber to where her beloved's pleading eyes reached out to her.

Go, damn you, she told herself. Move!

She couldn't. She was afraid. He was her strength, her courage. If he was helpless, what could she do? She was lost, alone and terrified into numbness. He called her name again, but it sounded foreign to her ears.

Fight or flight? Fight or flight? Fight or flight?

Move, you worthless piece of camel dung! Move! she commanded her insubordinate limbs.

"Anck-su-Namun!"

They did, but not in the direction she had intended. Without knowing why, without wanting to, blinded by fear and despair, Anck-su-Namun fled down the corridor, running to she knew not where.

Regardless of the crumbling pyramid, Imhotep's entire world crashed down around him. "Anck-su-Namun..." he whispered, his eyes flooding with bitter tears. He had to be seeing things. He didn't just see the woman he loved, the woman who supposedly loved him, the woman for whom he had risked the wrath of men and gods, the woman without whom life wasn't worth living--he didn't just see her run away from him, did he?

He looked up at the O'Connells, who regarded him with expressions very much like pity.

She did. She abandoned him. After everything he had done for her, she left.

He felt like blacking out, getting sick, crying, screaming, or some combination of all of them.

His arms were over the edge of the abyss, now. He could conceivably pull himself to safety. But why bother? Anck-su-Namun was--no, had been--absolutely everything to him. If she had forsaken him, life wasn't worth contemplating, much less living. He closed his eyes, unable to look upon the cruel, merciless world a second longer, and let go. He fell backward into the chasm, tugged by ghostly hands of the dead. His body plummeted in the depths as his heart had just done, embracing the end.

Then the comfortingly familiar blackness closed in.

Anck-su-Namun ran blindly down the uneven corridor, barely breathing, not thinking, just fleeing. Fleeing from what? From Imhotep, the only man who ever loved her, ever cared, ever earned her love in return! What was she thinking?

Suddenly, the ground wasn't ground anymore, and she plunged into a pit full of-_-scorpions?!_

She had no time to think. No time to scream. No time to weep.

The physical blackness of the ravenous arachnids closed in, soon followed by a much purer blackness, and the pain was gone.

_Death is only the beginning..._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[[For my ideas about what happened next, read my other fic "To Begin Again."]][1]

   [1]: http://www.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=story-read&storyid=290854



End file.
